


Enough

by natsora



Series: The Sword and The Scabbard [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/F, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Minor wounds, Post In Hushed Whispers, Pre-Relationship, Stitches, angst with happy ending, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: The Herald is different after Redcliffe. Fear haunts her, nightmares dogs her. When Cassandra figures out why, she can’t leave the Herald alone to deal with it.





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I have a number of one-shots planned for the pair and to get to the bits I want to write about I have to get through a number of key parts of the game. So stay tuned for more.

Cassandra didn’t notice till it was gone. The easy laughter, the flowing conversation, the playful verbal sparring and the camaraderie of a party practised in travelling together. For a while, she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly had changed. Everyone was more subdued after Redcliffe. Time magic, a Tevinter magister working for the Elder one and the Herald went into the future. _The future, Maker!_ Cassandra had no idea what to make of this. But it made sense everyone needed time alone with their thoughts.

The Inquisition conscripted the rebel mages. That’s about the only good thing that came out of the entire affair. At least, it would bring calm back to Redcliffe. Word had been sent back to Haven and Cullen would make arrangements for the mages to be escorted back. 

She glanced behind her shoulder. The Herald rode close to Dorian Pavus, their new party member. Despite having only met the Tevinter mage a few days prior, the Herald seemed to have formed a close bond with the man. A bond that Cassandra herself couldn’t help but disapprove of on principal. After all, the man was from Tevinter and an ex-pupil of the magister that sent the Herald into the future.

_But without Dorian, Trev would have been trapped there._

That night as they made camp, Trev helped set it up like how she always did, refusing to allow the Inquisition soldiers to do it for her. Once the camp was ready, she set about laying out her belongings in the tent she shared with Cassandra in a manner she preferred. By now they were used to each other’s rhythms and habits. But this day like the previous two, Trev was slower, she seemed tired. She was often by the fire watching as food was prepared but even the temptation of dinner wasn’t spurring her to work a little quicker like before. But that wasn’t strange, was it? All of them were weary from the hard battle at Redcliffe. 

“Come on, get your dinner,” Varric called. 

Trev unloaded her saddle pack onto the ground and made her way out. Cassandra wondered maybe the fatigue was just due to an empty stomach. After all armies marched on their bellies, not their feet. But instead of taking the offered bowl from Varric, she headed into the woods. Cassandra frowned. As she started after Trev, Varric shook his head. “I think she needs a little space.”

The furrow between her brow deepened. What space? They were in the woods, the Herald needed to be careful. Going into the woods alone was foolish. There were Red Templars roaming the countryside, not to mention bears and wolves aplenty. In the end, she gave in, made a noise of frustration and turned back to the fire. Her worry eased a little because she knew the Herald wasn’t unarmed. 

Cassandra was done with her dinner by the time Trev returned. The camp fire was quiet. Varric and Dorian had already turned in while Solas sat a little distance apart taking the first watch. In the dim light, Trev’s face was shrouded in shadows, the lines of her body radiated exhaustion. As she neared the fire, her face was tinted dancing shades of red and yellow. Cassandra knew the pot was empty because Varric had handed her Trev’s share earlier. She smiled watching Trev dug at the dregs of the pot a little sadly, Trev had the same look of disappointment whenever she returned for a second serving to find the pot empty. 

“Here,” she said, approached, “Varric has saved you some.”

Their eyes met and in that split second, Cassandra saw a myriad of emotions flicking through Trev’s brown eyes. But overwhelmingly she saw fear. Trev snatched the bowl out of her hands and found a seat on a log as far away from herself and Solas as she could. 

_Fear? Why does she fear me? What happened?_

Cassandra was always one to meet problems head on. Solutions were never found by agonising over the problem for days on end. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the line of Trev’s back highlighted against the fire, maybe it was the tension across her shoulders, maybe it was how she held herself so stiff as if bracing for an attack. Cassandra’s footsteps faltered, surprised and irritated by her sudden indecision.

_Maybe Varric is right, she needs some space. She is just weary._

But things didn’t change the next day or the one after that. By the fifth day they left Redcliffe, Cassandra was knew what was different. Trev was. 

The Herald was always one who engaged the others in conversation. Keeping Varric entertained by asking question after question so much so Cassandra wondered if Trev was capable of just being still and quiet. Now that she was, Cassandra missed Trev’s voice. The chatter, the laughter and the all around warm feeling Cassandra got when travelling with her had completely vanished. 

Now that she had identify the problem, she watched Trev. The Herald wasn’t just avoiding her, she was avoiding everyone else but Dorian. Even then they exchanged nothing but a few hushed words. The rings around Trev’s eyes darkened as the days passed. 

_What did she saw in the future that had disturbed her so? Why does she fear me?_

Cassandra was worried. But for once she didn’t know what to do.

* * *

They encountered a rift near one of the small villages that dotted the Hinterlands. It was causing a great deal of problems for the villagers. Trev decided that they would close the rift. But the Herald’s brittle smile as she nodded at the cheering villagers and the grim set of Trev’s jaw after they rode out of view made her worry. But worse of all was the refusal to meet her eyes even as they prepared for battle. 

“We’ll carry on the rest of the way on foot,” Trev said, dismounting and securing the reins of her horse to a nearby tree. 

The others followed suit but before everyone was ready, Trev was already striding towards the rift. Cassandra growled and hurried to catch up. 

“Herald, you shouldn’t rush in on your own. Give Varric a chance to get to higher ground,” she said. 

Trev turned without breaking her stride. Cassandra could see her eyes through the silt of the helm. They were dark, almost black, hidden within shadows. There, that same flicker of fear before it was hidden away again. Trev didn’t speak, she drew her sword and marched on. Before Cassandra could demand for an explanation, the rift crackled and demons howled into existence. 

* * *

Her breath was caught in her throat. It hurt as if someone had taken a maul to her chest. Trev had her arm thrust out, attempting to close the rift pre-maturely. _Why is she being foolhardy?_ There were still demons in the vicinity. 

Green lightning arced out from Trev’s palm. An umbilical cord connecting her to the unnatural tear in reality. Her arm was stiff and straight, muscles on her neck corded and tight. _Does it hurt?_ She couldn’t understand why she never considered it before. Shades of green tinted Trev’s armour, making her looked otherworldly and sickly. A cry of defiance burst from Trev’s throat. _Or was it pain?_ It started low at first, growing louder and angrier as she thrusted her arm towards the rift as if to close faster. 

Cassandra kept her eyes trained on Trev as her sword arm rose and fell, cutting down shades and demons without hesitation. Then, her heart lurched. A terror demon launched itself up from underground at Trev. The Herald fell heavily on her back and the connection was disrupted. 

“To the Herald!” she shouted. 

But Solas and Varric were dealing with enemies of their own. It was up to her. She was the Herald’s protector, it was her responsibility. Her heels dug up clumps of dirt as she raced towards the Herald, cursing at the demons that barred her way. 

Trev had her shield up, fending off raking claws and scoring fangs. Her helm lost and forgotten next to her. Black hair wild and messy, loose from her bun, as she snarled at a countenance that would scare anyone else shitless. Every blow against her shield drove her harder against the rocky ground. This close, Cassandra could hear her grunts of pain mixed with growls of frustration. 

_Hold on, I’m coming._

As Cassandra’s blade cut down the last shade that stood between them, Trev stabbed her sword through the terror demon from her position on the ground. Eyes gleaming with determination, she levered herself upright before the demon had completely turned to ashes. Left hand thrusted towards the sky, the brilliant green energy roared to life again.

She strode to the Herald’s side ready to berate Trev her recklessness. But as the rift snapped shut with a thunderous boom, Trev’s shoulders sagged, she braced herself against her blade, panting. Trev turned sensing her presence and straightened. The weariness tidied away like a child hiding their mess under the rug, haphazard and careless. She found herself without words as Trev ducked around her to check in on the others. 

* * *

Another day and it’s another day of Trev keeping to herself, withdrawing from the others. She walked towards the bluff overlooking the Hinterlands once camp was set up.

“Herald...” Cassandra’s voice trailing off, the warning to stay away from the edge died on her tongue. 

Trev didn’t seemed to have heard. She stood, arms folded across her chest, looking out into the woodlands below. The rustling of leavings brushing against branches filled the air. A special sort of music only heard out here. Cassandra winced, eyes turning into slits at the intensity of the setting sun. Trev, silhouetted against the fiery sea of oranges and reds, looked like she was on fire. The shadow Trev cast was long and it stopped right at her feet. Her chest ached inordinately at how lonely the Herald looked. Her fingers twitched, taking a life of their own, attempting to reach out to Trev.

Trev’s gaze was far away. _What do you see?_ As the sun sank beyond the trees, Cassandra could make out the bleak look in those brown eyes. They glinted in the light, it reminded her of a fox’s, skittish and afraid.

A gentle breeze picked up and set strands of Trev’s black hair loosed from her bun. Stiff shoulders weighed down by the heavy sigh. In the end, Cassandra approached, if only to make sure Trev hadn’t taken hurt during the fight. Concern was met with a brusque “I’m fine”. Her heckles rose, but Trev had turned back to face a view she wasn’t looking at with her eyes. She left Trev to her contemplation, retreating to their shared tent with her annoyance. Whatever was up with the Herald, it wasn’t something she could fix with her usual direct approach. 

Cassandra couldn’t say what woke her hours later. It was dark outside, flickers of light streamed through unsecured flaps of the tent. She frowned. _Why is it unsecured?_ Sitting up, she realised the bedroll next to hers was still rolled up. Trev hadn’t came in yet. _Is it her watch already?_ Something churned in her gut. 

She pulled on her boots, belted her sword and stepped out. Varric was sitting next to the fire. Their eyes met. He didn’t speak, instead he jerked his head in the direction of the bluff, answering her unspoken question.

In the distance, black against silver moonlight stood the Herald. There was a faint glow of green as Trev was cradling her hand against her chest. _Does it disturb her sleep so?_ Her face shrouded in shadows as puffs breath condensed against the chill of the night. 

“Herald,” Cassandra called as she approached. 

Trev seemed to ignore her. But when Cassandra touched her shoulder, she flinched violently. Again the wild eyes, again the fear. She was almost half way to drawing her sword. The sight made Cassandra’s guts clenched tighter. _Why does she fear me?_

In that moment, Trev looked fragile. 

_Nonsense! She isn’t fragile? She wields sword and shield everyday. Her body corded with muscles from days of combat and hard riding. Trev is far from brittle. She may be childish and irresponsible at times, but that’s because she is young. Trev is not a princess that needs protection._

But… Her chest tightened at the fear in Trev’s eyes. “Come and sleep, you need your rest,” she coaxed, tugging at Trev’s arm gently. 

It was met with resistance. For a moment, Cassandra thought Trev was being stubborn. She knew Trev could be as headstrong as a mabari with a bone. But Trev blinked and shook her head, the glaze over her eyes receded and she shuffled stiffly along easily enough.

_How long did she sit here? How long has this been going on? Is why Trev looked so tired every day?_

In the tent as Trev undressed, armour then under shirt into her night shirt, Cassandra could see bruises big and small marring her back, all of it gained from the fight earlier. She retrieved a balm from her packs. “We should tend to these bruises.” 

Trev didn’t agree but neither did she refused. She remained on her feet, wavering slightly, her night shirt loose in her hands with her bare back facing Cassandra. It was like she was half asleep. 

“Trev?” 

Trev half turned her head. “Yeah, do that.” Her voice raspy as if unused for days. 

_When was the last time she spoke to me? Was it after defeating Alexius as she hugged me?_ Cassandra’s chest ached again as she realised she couldn’t remember. It made her uneasy. 

She undid Trev’s breast band and started to spread a thin coat of balm methodically. Trev’s skin was cold. _She must be chilled to the bone._ But she bit her tongue, it was not the time to berate the Herald for her irresponsible behaviour. She completed the task wordlessly. 

Trev didn’t bother with her breast band and pulled on her night shirt. With a whispered “thank you”, she lay down and kept her back towards Cassandra. She spent the hours between then and dawn listening to Trev’s breathing. It changed and changed, going from a deliberate even in and out, to a deeper, slower pace indicative of sleep. For a while Cassandra relaxed, trying to will herself to sleep as well but Trev started twitching. Her breath quickened and hitched. For a long moment, silence before she released a deep shuddering breath. And this repeated itself over and over. 

_How long has she been having nightmares? Is that why she refuses to sleep?_

Cassandra sighed. The trip back to Haven would be a long one. 

* * *

Trev sat at the Singing Maiden, nursing her tankard of ale. Her eyes gazing at the people dancing and singing, their hearts filled with a joy at a job well done. Rebel mages were recruited, a disaster at Redcliffe averted and information about the enemy’s plan discovered. It was a success wasn’t it? 

_Why does it not feel that way?_

Iron Bull smashed his tankard against Sera’s, spilling half the contents on themselves. Neither seemed to mind. Solas was sat with Blackwall, one whittling a piece of wood, the other looking on with interest as they talked. Cullen and Cassandra occupied a corner, cutlery taking the place of counters Cullen enjoyed using so much. But the one who had the rest of the tavern enthralled was Varric. He was holding court, regaling his audience with an embellished version of events. His baritone voice washed over her. As he growled low, his audience leaned forward trapped in his net of words. He ends with a rising crescendo with his arms sweeping out, the crowd gasped and cheered. 

Trev squeezed her eyes shut. A flash of fire, thumps of limp bodies against the ground. Then it came, it always did. Heads without bodies attached, rolled across the floor. Cassandra’s brown eyes wide open and glazed over, staring at her. 

_I am the Herald, aren’t I? I am supposed to survive. I am supposed to stop all this from happening but how?_

Trev’s eyes snapped open as she inhaled a ragged breath. She stood abruptly and left, suddenly unable to stand the press of people. In the bustle of the tavern nobody noticed the guest of honour was missing. 

The chill in the air smacked into her face, burning her nostrils as she took a deep breath. It sharpened the fear. Daggers in the dark stabbing at a confidence she didn’t knew she had until she lost it. She clenched her fists, nails biting into skin, the pain helped clear her mind. She scrubbed her face with her palms as she made her way back to her little cottage. 

But she wasn’t looking forward to her cottage either. Sleep was no refuge because sleep meant nightmares. It meant waking up with her heart slamming so hard against her ribs, she was afraid they would break. But staying awake meant facing the reality of what rested on her shoulders. Her thoughts chased each other in a circle. There was no relief one way or another. 

Then, she bumped into something hard and cold. “Sorry,” she muttered as she looked up. 

It was a trio of ex-templars. Trev didn’t recognise any of them, they had to be new to Haven. She had trained and spoken to most of Cullen’s ex-Templar recruits. These three chuckled, pointing at her, amused that she had walked into them. Before Redcliffe she’d laughed along, but not today. She tried to duck around them only to flinch back when one of them barred her way with his arm. 

“So you’re the Herald?” he sneered. “How can a woman be the Herald? And such a young one at that.”

“That must be why she sought the mages out instead of enlisting the templars for help,” another replied. 

_Did I seek the mages out? I don’t even like magic._

Trev opened her mouth, her explanation poised on her lips, but the words sounded hollow and stupid in her head. She went to Redcliffe because she was already in the area. Her intent was to speak to both sides before committing. “What was I supposed to do? Let a Tevinter magister have his way?” was what ended up coming out of her mouth. 

The ex-templars’ laughter faded, the glint in their eyes dangerous as they surrounded her. “You’re a false Herald,” said one. 

“They should cut your hand off, you don’t deserve the power of Andraste,” another said. 

The third who was standing in front of her didn’t speak, instead he shoved her. Trev was prepared, her feet were planted. She barely budged. Head tilted, she grinned, this was something familiar. She was used to being underestimated. She was’t some willowy princess, her frame was small but board. She had earned her prowess through hours on the training field and combat. 

“Think you’re tough huh? Let’s see what you make of this!” 

Trev’s left hand went to her right hip. Her sword wasn’t there. She might be a warrior but she didn’t walk around Haven armed and armoured. This was where she was supposed to be safe.

“Oh ho, look at the girly. She wanted to get her little knife as if she knew how to use it.”

Trev snapped. The stress that rode her since Redcliffe, the exhausted days and sleepless nights had all culminated in that single instant. It didn’t matter she was outnumbered, it didn’t matter if they were bigger and stronger. Her frustration needed an outlet and they were it. 

* * *

Trev’s fists ached, the skin across her knuckles torn and raw. Blood was trickling into her eye from a cut on her brow, marring her vision. 

“What’s going on?” a voice shouted. 

She turned, fists up, ready to take on the new challenger as well. 

“Herald!”

It was Cullen. His eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. Two of his new recruits were down on the ground groaning, the third stood with a small bloodstained blade in his hand. It was only then the pain started to register. Trev let her arms dropped, she no longer had the energy to keep them up.

“I don’t think their conduct befits soldiers of the Inquisition,” she growled as Cullen approached. “Commander, please deal with them.”

As she turned to go, she saw Cassandra and Leliana leaving the tavern. They had probably followed Cullen out. The curl of Cassandra’s lips told her everything she wanted to know. The Seeker was disappointed. This was also conduct unbefitting of the Herald after all. She was supposed above all this

Trev’s eyes avoided meeting Cassandra’s only to find Leliana looking right at her. For a moment she saw the gaunt Leliana of the future. That Leliana had eyes that burnt with a need to see the Elder One end at all cost.

“This is all pretend to you. The future you hope that will never exist,” the words echoed in her mind. “I suffered, the whole world suffered. It was real.”

_It is real, they did die. They died for me._

Trev flinched and turned away. It was too much. She pressed a hand against her temple. The pounding in her head had intensified. Maybe it was the ale, or the fight, either way she had to get away. Grimacing, she walked resolutely back towards her cottage, ignoring Cullen’s call to see to her wounds. Trev sank onto her bed bone weary, one that no amount of sleep could lift from her shoulders. Heedless of the blood, she buried her head in her hands. 

She couldn’t say how long she stayed that way. Only that when she came back to herself there was a strange noise coming from somewhere inside her cottage. It was high pitched and insistent. She sighed and glanced about. There was nothing out of the ordinary and the noise seemed to have gone away. 

Trev winced as she rose to her feet, finding herself all stiff. “Maker take the Frostbacks,” she muttered. “It’s so cold.”

She started pulling off her clothes. They were all muddy and bloodstained from the tussle. The noise started back up again. Puzzled, she peered under her bed. There was nothing except some discarded boxes that were there when she was assigned the cottage. But the noise was louder. She shivered as she lay on the cold floor. Reaching under the bed, she shifted some boxes to find a kitten mewing at her. 

“What are you doing here?” Trev asked the kitten. It merely mewed louder as she extracted it from its hiding place. 

It was so small and light, practically all fur and barely any meat on those bones. She stroked the little fluff ball. And it calmed down. Cream and silver fur so soft, she was afraid she would hurt it. She sank back onto her bed, shirt forgotten on the floor, cradling the kitten against her chest. 

And like a dam bowing under pressure, tears welled up in Trev’s eyes. “I can’t do this. My best wouldn’t be enough. I can’t stop all those deaths. I can’t, I just would’t be enough,” she cried. “I won’t have all their deaths on me. I can’t see them die again.”

The kitten mewed. Then came a rap against her door. “Herald, it’s me, Cassandra.”

Trev held her breath and wished she could disappear. _Why is she here now of all times? Is she here to scold me? To tell me off for fighting? Did she heard what I’ve said?_ Her breath quickened as she hugged the kitten tighter. 

“Trev, may I come in?”

Cassandra could be insistent. If she wanted in, there was no force on Thedas that could deter her. Trev hastily brushed her tears away and croaked, “Come in.”

* * *

Cassandra watched Trev. Returning to Haven didn’t change anything. True, the Herald looked like she was functioning but once Cassandra knew what to look for, she realised Trev was barely holding on. Once Trev would find all manner of excuses to get out of the hours of meetings with the war council, now she approached them with a willingness never before seen. Trev’s eyes took on a glazed over quality as she floated between tasks, completing them yes, but in a fashion that felt off. 

It was the third day of questioning about Trev’s vision of the future that she put matters to a stop. “This is getting nowhere, far better for the Herald to give us a written report.”

The others agreed. Cullen was more than happy to flee the meeting, returning to the training grounds. Josephine promptly gathered her papers onto her tablet and left with a sigh, saying something about a fund raising fete she was trying to organise for the Inquisition. Neither seemed to notice the ashen look on Trev’s face as she spoke about how she found the others infected by red lyrium. However, nothing escaped Leliana’s keen eyes. But she said nothing, not even when Trev spoke dispassionately about how Leliana’s future self was tortured. 

Trev didn’t move even after Leliana took her leave, leaving just the two of them in the room. She blinked and seemed to return to herself, looking around in surprise at the emptied room. “I will see to my other duties,” she muttered and left. 

Cassandra sighed, replaying the three days of recounting in her head. She couldn’t help but noticed how Trev skipped over great chunks of events towards the end, always saying, “Then we jumped through the rift, returning to present day.”

There was nothing about the intervening fight, or how they got away or what happened to the future counterparts as they escaped. But she could almost taste the fear radiating from Trev. 

It was only a week after their return, when someone proposed a celebration that Cassandra knew something had deeply shifted in Trev. She could always count on Trev taking the lead in anything remotely fun with Sera egging her on. Really just anything to escape her more dull duties. But instead Trev hid in the stables, brushing her horse even though Master Denett had stable hands to help with the work. She threw herself at the training dummy for hours, hacking and slashing at it with a single-mindedness that chilled Cassandra. 

From over the rim of her tankard, Cassandra watched, only half listening to Cullen. The sullen look on the Herald’s face flickered on whenever she thought nobody was looking at her. Occasionally, someone congratulated her and Trev seemed to sink further into herself after the person left. 

Later after Cullen left for more drinks, Leliana approached, coming late to the celebration. “Something’s wrong with the Herald,” she said without preamble. 

“I know,” Cassandra replied. 

Her reply had caught the spymaster by surprise. “You’ve noticed?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She barely sleeps, she avoids me. She fears me.”

Leliana pursed her lips. “I don’t think it’s that simple. But whatever it is, it’s far better you find out than to do nothing at all. The Herald will get herself seriously wounded at the rate she is going.”

She narrowed her eyes at Leliana. “But she fears me. She refuses to meet my eyes, she avoids me. Clearly I make her uncomfortable. I don’t think she wants my help.”

“She trusts you,” Leliana pointed out. 

“Trusts me?” Cassandra didn’t think she heard anything more absurd. “She runs from me. That’s not trust.”

Leliana snorted. It was a delicate noise, fit for an Orlesian bard Cassandra figured. “She shares a tent with you. She fights side by side with you. And you’ve reported that she allows you to treat her wounds. What’s that if not trust?”

But a commotion outside disrupted any retort Cassandra could work up. She left the tavern only to find Trev bleeding and cut up. Her heckles rose, one look at the men told her everything she needed to know. Trev was never one to be surly when drunk and Cassandra knew she was cold stone sober. Whatever this was, it wasn’t Trev’s doing. Her lips curled but she stopped when Trev’s eyes slid over her, stopping at Leliana’s. 

Fear, there was nothing but fear and anguish in her brown eyes. Cassandra couldn’t understand it and it made her chest ached uncomfortably. Trev’s face crumpled. She ducked her head and escaped. Cassandra was stuck between sorting out the situation and going after Trev. But Leliana gripped her shoulder. “Go to her. I’ll deal with this.”

* * *

Cassandra took some time to gather medical supplies, before heading to the Herald’s cottage. As she approached, she noticed there was no light streaming out from below Trev’s door. She frowned, wondering if the Herald had gone elsewhere. But there was the unmistakable sobs of a person crying coming from inside. 

_Why is she crying? Is she more hurt than I initially thought?_

Cassandra didn’t mean to linger at the door, but as she raised her hand to rap against the door, she heard Trev’s voice. The chill air was so quiet, it was as if Trev was speaking next to her. 

Each of Trev’s fears was a tiny stab to Cassandra’s chest as she listened. Each one selfless, each one valid, each one building her new found respect for Trev. It hit her like a shield to her face. The weight they had laid across her shoulders must be immense. Trev’s ability to take things in stride, she had mistaken it for frivolity. The easy laughter and banter she had mistaken it for youthful inability to take things seriously. These were things keeping Trev sane. It was her way of coping. 

“I can’t see them die again,” Trev sobbed. 

Cassandra flinched, inhaling sharply. _She watched us die in that awful future. That’s what she fears. She fears for us. She fears letting us down._ Her jaw tightened and she rapped on the door, waiting and praying Trev would let her in, if nothing else to tend to her wounds. 

When the choked out “come in” came, she entered to find Trev without her shirt, clutching a mewing furball against her chest. She frowned and Trev flinched, ducking her head. “Are you here to scold me? I know I shouldn’t have fought them.”

“Herald.”

“I should have called for help, I should have-“

“Trev!”

Trev looked up, brown eyes glinting in the dark. Her breath puffing small clouds against the chill air. 

“Why didn’t you build your fire? You’re freezing,” Cassandra said, striding over to the fireplace and doing just that. 

Trev started shivering, the cold finally digging its claws into her. She dug through the Herald’s chest of drawers and tossed it over to Trev. The kitten made an indignant cry in response. “Where did you get that?” she asked. 

“Under my bed,” came the reply, Trev’s voice raspy and hoarse. 

She snorted, a noise decidedly indelicate. “Let me see that wound.”

Trev shifted, giving her space, pulling on the shirt and settling the cat between her crossed legs. Cassandra laid out her supplies and examined the cut. It was rather deep, cutting through Trev’s left eyebrow at an angle. The wound started bleeding again as she cleaned it. “Hold this,” she instructed.

Trev held the cloth against the wound. 

“Harder, otherwise it wouldn’t stop bleeding,” Cassandra lit a candle, preparing the catgut and needle. “It needs to be stitched up.”

She reached out and lifted Trev’s face with her finger. Trev kept her eye averted, trained on the noisy little thing on her lap, her free hand stroking its fur. Cassandra swallowed the sigh of frustration. She was no good this. Feelings, emotions, they were all flighty things, nebulous and intangible. They were not things she would cut with her sword, or she could intimidate into submission. Cassandra knew she was many things but gentle she was not. 

She took the cloth from Trev, fingers brushing fingers. Trev flinched away from the contact. She pretended she didn’t noticed. Picking up the needle, she threaded catgut through it and passed it through the flame. 

“Ready?”

Trev nodded. She held still for the needle and bore it stoically. Trev’s knuckles were all raw and broken and swollen. As she held it in her own, cleaning them, she was stuck by how small it was compared to her own.

“Why are you not scolding me?” Trev finally broke the silence. 

Cassandra stiffened. “Why is there a need to scold you?”

“Because I fought the templars, because it’s behaviour unbefitting a Herald?”

“I don’t know what exactly happened but I know you have enough sense to differentiate when someone needs their ass kicked and when they do not.”

For a while, neither spoke. The kitten seemed to have fallen sleep in Trev’s lap, purring happily away unaware of the tension in the room. Trev’s breathing grew shallow as her mouth opened and closed, searching for words but not finding them. Cassandra ignored it and carefully wind bandages over Trev’s left hand. The Anchor swirled like a maelstrom on her palm, suddenly flaring brighter than Cassandra had ever seen outside of combat. Trev winced and yanked her hand back, startling the kitten. It escaped and buried itself among the blankets. 

“Does this happen often?” Cassandra asked, concern furrowing her brow. 

Trev breathed harshly through her mouth. “Sometimes, when I’m stressed.”

The ache in Cassandra’s chest intensified. _Why don’t we know about this? This should be addressed. Pain shouldn’t be the norm._

“I will go get Solas,” she said, sitting up immediately. “You shouldn’t be in pain.”

“Don’t,” Trev said, the same plea whenever Cassandra wanted to get a mage. 

She hesitated at the threshold. This wasn’t something that would go away after drinking a healing potion. No balm or salve would ease this. Trev needed a mage, preferably Solas. Cassandra returned to Trev’s side and squeezed her shoulder. “Please, I don’t like seeing you in pain,” she confessed. 

Trev looked at her. For a moment, Cassandra expected to find fear in them. But instead, there was only surprise. _Do you think that poorly of me?_ But she knew an opening when she saw one and pressed her advantage. “You’re my friend, please don’t ask me to watch you suffer.”

There was no sound beyond the crackling of the fireplace, the ragging breaths from Trev. Then, she whispered, “Ok.”

Solas came swiftly once Cassandra located him. She kept her hand on Trev’s shoulder as he sent waves of healing magic over her hand. Cassandra could feel every twitch of Trev’s stiff muscles as she fought her instincts to pull away. Eventually her arm relaxed, the furrow across her brow eased. Solas straightened. “You can come to me any time it hurts, Trevelyan. I’ll always do my best to help you.”

Trev just nodded mutedly. Solas looked at Cassandra, resignation in his eyes. He knew Trev was never going to seek his help willingly. Whatever misgiving Trev might have of mages, it would have to be dealt with another time. 

“Do you think we can find a way to transfer the anchor?” Trev asked, after Solus left. Her voice tight as anxiety returned. “Maybe we can find a way to give it to you? Maybe—”

“Trev, stop,” Cassandra said, hands tightening her grip on Trev’s shoulder. “Why are you saying this?”

Trev lifted her face, eyes red-rimmed and filling. “I… I don’t think I can do this. I can’t keep the future from happening. My best won’t be enough. I’m too inexperienced. I’m too young.” Her breath hitched as she fought for control over her tears. “I’m just wrong for this,” she said, voice breaking.

“But you’re Andraste’s chosen, you’re her Herald,” Cassandra said. “You will prevail, the Maker will aid you.”

Trev started shivering again. The fire was roaring. This wasn’t the cold, this was something else. Cassandra shifted so she sat behind Trev. Shifting the kitten from the blanket, she wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled Trev to lean against her chest. Both of them cocooned within the blanket, Trev enclosed within her arms.

“I wish I have your faith and confidence. I wish I can be so sure,” Trev admitted in a whisper, relaxing. 

“This isn’t just your responsibility because you’re Herald. Yes, you have the ability to close the rifts, that’s an additional burden that you alone bear but we’re all here to help. We’re all standing with you,” she reminded. 

Her hands started winding the bandages over Trev’s hand anew albeit a little awkwardly. Fingers brushing over palm, tracing calluses shaped by sword hilts, cords of muscles forged by combat. Cassandra’s hands twitched away after their work was done. She clenched them, surprised to find them tingling. 

“What if it’s still not enough?”

Cassandra took a deep breath. She wanted to ask Trev what exactly did she see that disturbed her so. But in the months since threatening to kill Trev in the dungeons of Haven’s Chantry, she learned Trev had a wide streak of stubbornness. And pushing would get her nowhere. 

“If it’s not enough, then I say it is an honour to have fought by your side.”

Trev sighed. It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but what she was looking for wasn’t something Cassandra could give. Words could only do so much. Faith in the Maker and his plans wasn’t something she could just bestow on Trev. It was something she had to find on her own, if she ever did. Trev wasn’t a believer despite embodying the power of Andraste in her hand but Cassandra believed the Maker moved in strange ways. Maybe a believer wasn’t what they needed, maybe what they needed was a person willing to take a stand because it was the right thing to do. 

And maybe that was enough. 

Before either could speak, the kitten squirmed into Trev’s lap again, mewing plaintively and demanding for attention. Cassandra chuckled. “Seems like the kitten has taken a liking to you,” she remarked. “Have you named it?”

Trev lifted the kitten and checked. “Looks like he’s a boy,” she said as the kitten starting mewing its high pitch cry. 

“It’s noisy, that’s what he is.”

“And so he shall be,” Trev said, her tone the lightest in days. She almost sounded like her old self. “Lord Noisy of Haven.”

* * *

Cassandra kept watching Trev. She didn’t return all the way back to normal. There were days she found Trev whacking away at the training yard earlier than herself and she was always up at dawn. “Nightmares,” she’ll said by way of explanation. 

But the most drastic change was Trev no longer avoided her gaze, instead she seemed to seek hers out. It steadied Trev, and Cassandra drew comfort from that. 

Cassandra entered the Singing Maiden one day to find Trev sharing a table with the others. She was laughing and smacking the table at something Varric had said. The others there as well, enjoying their meal and conversation. 

“Seeker,” Varric called out. “Join us.”

Cassandra grimaced. Sitting down meant she would get no more work done for the day. But Trev turned and smiled her lop-sided grin, the one that was almost extinguished after Redcliffe, and beckoned her over. She grunted as a matter of policy before sitting down. 

Trev flagged over a server and ordered a serving of food for Cassandra and another tankard for herself. A strange noise came from Trev as the others went on with their conversation. Her eyes narrowed. “Did you bring your cat here?”

“Of course,” Trev said, picking apart chunks of her chicken. “I can’t leave Lord Noisy alone in the cottage. He’ll be lonely.”

“He’s a cat,” she frowned. “He can join the other cats in the store room, keeping the rats out.”

Shreds of chicken in hand, Trev dropped them into her pocket as a furry cream head poked out, mewing its pleasure. “But I have to feed him,” she protested lightly. 

The kitten clawed itself out of Trev’s pocket only to demand for attention from her. “Looks like Noisy likes you.”

“Ugh.” Cassandra couldn’t help the noise that escaped her mouth. 

Trev grinned but it faded, eyes darted away from hers. _Did I do something wrong?_ Cassandra’s heart lurched. 

A hand took hold of hers, squeezing it lightly, under the table. It was Trev’s. She gave her a small tight smile, as if unsure if the touch was welcome. Cassandra smiled, it was the slightest of tug on her lips. Trev’s grin returned. Leaning towards her, mouth lifting towards ear. “Thank you,” Trev whispered, “for looking out for me.”

Cassandra’s lips lifted higher and she returned the squeeze. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


End file.
